Desert
by soavezefiretto
Summary: Now she's free to look at him, and she does. She lingers on his face, his eyes, his mouth, she enjoys him in a way she's never done before. Then she gets up and walks to the door. GS, a little angst, ultimately on the fluffy side. Please r


Fandom: CSI:Las Vegas

Pairing: Grissom/Sara

Rating: K

Summary: GS angst/fluff (first angst, then fluff)

AN: This would be S4, somewhere around "Butterflied". Kinda OOC, I guess, but what the hell. I have no idea how old Sara is, so I made her my age. English is not my native language, and this is not betaed. My aim is to make you sniffle.

Author: soavezefiretto

Title: Desert

She walks into his office without knocking. None of them knocks, ever. Grissom lifts his eyes from the form he's filling out, expecting an update on the case she's working on with Nick. Then he remembers that Nick came in to hand him the final report an hour ago, and his eyebrows lift as she sits down on the chair in front of his desk. This must be serious, then. No one ever sits on that chair except Catherine, and that only when she's extremely pissed.

He looks at her expectantly, but she turns away, fixes on this object and that in the bluish half-light. He can't see her face.

Grissom's heart starts to beat faster. This must be really serious.

"What's up?"

She's still looking away from him. It's as if she's forgotten that he's even there, so closed are her features, such a distance does he read, not only in her face, but in her whole body. He leans forward.

"Sara?"

Finally, she turns. But only her neck moves, nothing else. The next words, whatever they were, die on his lips; all he can do is sit there and wait.

When she speaks, her voice is surprisingly soft. He expected to be burned and cut by ice, and instead feels caressed. He can hear her clear and close, her breath smells faintly of mint.

"I thought I could do it. But I can't."

"Can't do what?"

"This. Being here."

"In my office?"

"In Vegas."

"Oh."

He waits.

"I keep telling myself, this is really a great place to be, I like the city, I really do. I love the desert, and the light..."

She looks at him as though she expects some kind of confirmation, so he nods. The truth is, he had no idea she felt like that about the desert. He should have known, though. The desert, that's just like Sara. Or Sara is like the desert. Pure, clean. A survivor under extreme circumstances. A world apart. A killer if necessary.

"And I love the job. You know I do."

"You're doing great, Sara."

"And I... I love the people. I do. I've never felt like this, like I could... well, you know how I..."

She shakes her head, impatient, bites her lip, then continues speaking, doggedly. This is something she needs to say, and she will say it all, no matter how embarrassing or painful.

"I love Catherine, and admire her. I love Warrick, and I wish we could be friends. And God, I love Nick, I'm so thankful for him, if you'd told me about him I'd have thought you were making him up. Jesus, I even love Greg, and his stupid hair. He's sweet."

She knows this is making him uncomfortable and anxious. You don't talk about how you feel about your workmates, much less about how you love them. Not in this lab, not on his shift. And since when is Greg sweet?

"But I have to leave."

"Leave?"

"I'm quitting, Grissom. I'm outta here. My resignation will be on your desk tomorrow, and I'll be on my way to San Francisco."

He sighs.

"Sara, if this is about Nick's promotion..."

"It's not about Nick's promotion. I told you, I do love him, and we both know he deserved it. It has nothing to do with the job."

"Then what? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just can't keep on seeing you. I can't... work with you every day, and hear you, and be with you in the same room, because it hurts too much, and it won't go away. I tell myself I'll get over it, it's just a crush, and I believe myself. But then I walk in here, and there you are, and you look at me, and I just sink deeper. I've been lying to myself for long enough. I'm 31 years old, and I need my life back. It's going to kill me, but I don't know what else to do. So I'm leaving."

The words are spoken, it is said, now she's free to look at him, and she does. She lingers on his face, his eyes, his mouth, she enjoys him in a way she's never done before. Then she gets up and walks to the door.

With no idea of what he's going to do or say, Grissom gets up, walks around his desk.

"Sara."

She stops, but doesn't turn around.

"Don't go."

"Why not?"

He walks up to her from behind and lays his hand on her neck, just below her cheek, gently. He's never done that with anyone, he's never even thought about it, and yet he knows it's the right thing to do, he isn't nervous or afraid. Not anymore.

She stands tall, still facing the door.

"I don't know how to do this."

Now she turns. He takes her hand.

"I'm not... good at this."

"At what?"

"Being with... people."

"I'm not people."

"I know."

"So?"

"So I don't know... what I could offer. I have nothing to give."

"Maybe it's not about what you can offer. Maybe it's about accepting what is offered to you."

They both look down at their hands, still holding on to each other.

"Maybe that's what I can't do."

"That's why I have to leave."

"But, Sara..."

"Yes?"

"I don't want... I want..."

Now it's her turn to wait. Like the desert, she is patient. And she can feel the rain in the air before it comes.

"I want to keep on holding hands."

He's blundering, he knows. Never has he been more thankful for the dimmed lights in his office. But he must go on. There is something he needs to say, and he will say it all.

"I want to hold your hand. Is that ok? Can I... can I just hold your hand?"

"Yes."

Together, they leave the office and walk down the central corridor, past the labs, towards the front door and the parking lot.

In the DNA-lab, Catherine turns to Warrick.

"Did you see that?"

"Sure did."

They smile at each other. If Grissom and Sara can walk hand in hand, well then… anything is possible, isn't it?

Greg swivels his chair away from the warmth in their faces, into the cold blue light of the lamp by the microscope.


End file.
